Mostarda di Cremona

Mostarda is not jam. It is not chutney. It is not relish. Americans reach for these comparisons because they have nothing else, but each comparison fails. Mostarda is mostarda: whole candied fruits in a syrup infused with mustard essence so potent it clears the sinuses and makes the eyes water.

The process takes days. There is no way around this. You macerate the fruits in sugar, draw off the syrup, concentrate it, pour it back, and repeat. Each day the fruit becomes more translucent, more jewel-like, more saturated with sweetness. Only at the end do you add the mustard oil, because heat destroys its potency. The mustard is never cooked.

In Cremona, families have made this for generations, each with their own combination of fruits: quinces, cherries, apricots, figs, pears, citrus peel. The fruits should be various, the colors bright, the pieces large enough to recognize. This is not a sauce you spread. You lift out a piece of candied fruit, glistening and trembling, and set it beside a slice of bollito misto or a wedge of aged cheese. The sweetness and the fire cut through the richness. This is why mostarda exists.